Rhistmaege

Belesarum

Morning streamed through the slatted shutters in Rabby's room, assaulting Dovi's sleep-deprived head. The past evening was another complete loss. In between dreams, heavy booted Kingsmen, squeaking floorboards and a guard at the top of the stairs with a nagging cough and sniffling nose, sleep was damn near impossible. This protection will be the death of me yet.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and much to his surprise, noticed- no issue with his irregularity. Must have too much on my mind. At least Rabby will be happy this morning.

Dovi raised his head towards a quiet knocking on the door. "Yes, come in."

Rabby entered and closed the door tightly behind him. He threw a bundle of clothes at Dovi.

"Come on Rabby. You don't have to knock on your own door."

"Wanted to make sure, eh, everything was okay," said Rabby with a cautious smile. 

"Surprisingly, your bed is safe and sound. Thanks for giving up your room. Wish I did more than toss and turn though."

Rabby walked to the window and opened the shutters. "Like a damn fortress out there now. Escort of two dozen Kingsmen and a Fist of Maeges. I'm worried. This is some serious freaking business."

"Where'd you get these?" Dovi held up a pair of short black breeches and a finely cut, gray, long-sleeved cotton shirt.

Rabby worked his hands nervously against each other. "He's here Dovi. He brought the clothes. Belesarum Blackenroot is downstairs in my kitchen, as we speak. I don't like the looks of him. He's got shifty eyes. Peels a man's skin away." Rabby shook his head and plucked at his lower lip. "I don't like this one bit. I'm to see you down. You best get dressed. I'll be in the hall." He left the room, leaving Dovi alone with his thoughts.

Keep it together. Just tell the truth. It will be okay. Things have sucked up until now. How much worse could it possibly get? Maybe this will actually work out? An image of a powerful Rhistmaege being treated with dignity and respect danced through his mind.

He dressed and followed Rabby down the steps.

The Maggutton kitchen was madness. Dishes clinked and cups rattled. Loud, rumbling voices emanating from gruff looking men. The stench of sweat hung heavily among the smells of poached eggs, bacon and fresh baked breads. Mrs. Maggutton dashed here and there refilling cups of harsh morgenbroen. She dabbed a dishrag against the sheen above her furrowed brown. Rabby smiled at the Kingsmen as he cleared plates off the table.

Miidvallen was normally a full two days ride, with proper care given to the horses. These men had arrived in a mere six hours. How much Rhist had been used on the mounts to get them here so quickly? He shook his head and slipped his way into the kitchen.

Despite the Kingsmen being here for him, Dovi moved about the room without notice. The shadow, the wraith, the one not visible, the one who did not matter... It was the way it had always been.

"Dovi!" called Mr. Maggutton, as he entered through the side door. "I've someone here I want you to meet."

The men seated around the kitchen stopped mid-bite, seeming surprised to see Dovi standing so close to them.

Dovi stomach gurgled protestations as he eyed a steaming tin of blueberry muffins while drifting past men clad in House Engmarre's blue and yellow tabards. All thoughts of food evaporated, as the man behind Mac pushed into the room.

"Dovi, this is Belesarum Blackenroot, the Magus Magnanimous, high commander of Rhistlock," said Mr. Maggutton.

Deep black eyes seemed to mechanically calculate his worth. There was no smile. Nothing on the man's rigid face moved. His eyes didn't crinkle in a kind way, as an older man's should. Lips neither curled or twitched. He was milky in a bloodless way, reminding Dovi of powdery butterwhip crumpets. Dovi's eyes dropped away from fettering black eyes, and drifted down to forearms like he'd never seen before: tattoos of black lettering in a language he did not recognize; odd shapes in purples and greens and ashen grays pulsed with a life of their own. These were etched deep into the skin, not crude like a well-earned scar, but more refined, crafted by an artisan with great skill. 

Dovi half lifted his hand and half bowed to the man, unsure of how to greet him.

"So this is Dovinicus MaCabre?" asked Belesarum in a pointedly disappointed tone.

"Yes, yes. Dovi is just about as fine a boy as you will ever meet. Year after year, he's top of his class." Mac beamed and put a reassuring hand on Dovi's shoulder.

"You said he was at Wydenhall? Must be a lower tiered school. I've not heard of it." Belesarum shrugged his narrow shoulders and sucked his teeth. "No matter, we'll see he's brought up to speed. House Engmarre's library is the best in Avrenhalde. I've longed to get my hands on a true Rhistmaege. Quite the treat."

Dovi's mind wandered to the markings upon Gussie's back. This does not feel right. He eyes me like a bell cow bought at a bargain price.

The men-at-arms turned their attention back to appeasing their hearty appetites. Rabby moved about with a look of deep concern upon his face.

"Let's go into the living room," suggested Mr. Maggutton. Dovi stepped in place behind the two.

"Sit Dovi," said Mac, offering up his favorite cushioned lounger. Dovi's face grew hot. Don't embarrass yourself.

Belesarum moved to stand in front of Dovi. "I'm going to touch you, experimentally. This shouldn't hurt," he said. Without a hint of explanation, two cold fingers pressed upon each side of his neck, just beneath the pointed corners of his jawbone. A cold numbness flooded through him. Belesarum probed his mind. Dovi's nails dug deep into the chair's plush arms, as Belesarum scoured his mind like a wire brush taking rust off a weathered wagon wheel. There was no tact, no gentleness, no courteous knock. Raw, relentless seeking delved into him with reckless abandon. Dovi struggled to keep the seat of his high-brow breeches from slipping to the floor, like some drunken sot. Purple veins threatened to burst upon his temples. Unbearable agony ballooned at the back of his brain. Then, it just stopped.

Belesarum peeled his fingers away wildly, as if touching a well-stoked oven. His powdery face grew flush. The maege fell heavily to his knees. He clutched his head in his hands and rolled over on his side, writhing in pain. "Aaarrrhhh!" he bellowed and flailed about like a fish out of water.

"I-I'm sorry," said Dovi, fearing Belesarum would think he meant to hurt him.

Mr. Maggutton was torn between assisting Belesarum and running to find some help, ending up doing neither and standing there with mouth agape.

Finally after a full minute of thrashing about, Belesarum regained his faculties. He pushed himself up onto one shaky knee.

"Did the bitch Rhistmaege ever lay a filthy hand on you, boy?" Belesarum barked through wheezing, panted breaths. His lips were twisted in a snarl. Black eyes gleamed.

"Eh, eh- y-yes, yes, she touched my face," said Dovi. He sank as far back into the chair as he could.

"H-How many times?" asked Belesarum, his nostrils flaring wide.

"I-I'm not sure. I-I think it might have been twice."

"Damn it! You should have told me! She's left an imprint on you. She marked your Rhist. I stepped right into her booby trap." He slammed a fist down into the floor, splintering the wood. "This complicates things."

"Sir, I tried to explain-" started Mac.

"Did I ask you to speak?" Belesarum's livid eyes flashed at Mac.

"Make sure the men will be ready to leave by noon. I don't want to waste anymore time in this god-forsaken backwoods of a town. Tell them to make ready for a trip to Falfergast Sanctum."

"Falfergast? But Sir, surely you don't mean for-" started Mac.

"Enough! Make sure they're ready or it's your head." Belesarum stormed out of the room.

Mac glanced at Dovi, but failed to make eye contact. He turned his back away, towards the sound of the outside door slamming shut.

"Sir, what is it? What is Falfergast?" asked Dovi, moving forward to the edge of the chair. Not liking the sound of this. Not one bit.

"I-I'll explain it to you later. I have, things I have to attend to first." He rushed away into the kitchen.

Dovi heard Mr. Maggutton's voice fade as he yelled for Rabby. He didn't like the urgent tone in his voice.